


Out of The Shadows: Book 2

by PastelSlytherin



Series: Ask Nothing More [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends, Eventual Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Good Slytherins, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Slytherin, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherins Being Slytherins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:41:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelSlytherin/pseuds/PastelSlytherin
Summary: This is book two of my Slytherin!Harry AU.~Eventual Drarry//Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that. //
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Ask Nothing More [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724425
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	1. Let the Sun Come Streaming In

Harry was not enjoying his summer.

To be fair, he usually didn’t enjoy his summers any more than he had enjoyed his school years at the local muggle school he’d gone to before Hogwarts. Dudley’s friends still came around for “tea” or whatever other kind of play-date Petunia set up, and it was usually easier for them to torment Harry than when they were at school.

But he had thought it might be different this year. When he’d gotten into Uncle Vernon’s chevette at the end of term, he’d thought the summer would at least be easier to deal with because Ron and Hermione had both promised to write him over the summer. Ron had even mentioned something about them coming to stay at his house.

But, as Dudley loved to point out in front of his own friends, Harry hadn’t heard from anyone at Hogwarts all summer. The Dursley’s had all been treating him differently too. On one hand, they’d caved and given Harry Dudley’s other bedroom in fear that Harry’d squeal to some higher power in the Wizarding World they wouldn’t be able to sway. On the other, Uncle Vernon seemed to walk a fine line between exploding over every little thing Harry did and ignoring him completely. Dudley messed with him mercilessly in front of his friends and parents but avoided him when they were alone. Aunt Petunia was as snobbish as ever, but most days she could hardly stand to look at him. It made for a very lonely few months.

He missed Hogwarts more than he’d ever missed anything. He wanted to take a broom out on the grounds and practice for the Slytherin tryouts later this year. He wanted to go to the lake with Ron and Hermione and procrastinate studying for exams. He wanted to go visit Hagrid and choke down chunky rock cakes and lukewarm tea. He wouldn’t even mind sharing chocolate frogs with Draco Malfoy in the Common Room again at this point. Now that he’d had a taste of freedom and friendship at Hogwarts, it was like a blow to the face to be back here, alone and trapped.

Usually the way he passed time on Privet Drive was escaping outside. When he was younger, he’d go to the neighborhood playground but then he’d started scaring the other kids and their parents (having Dudley and his gang dogging his steps hadn’t helped). Sometimes he’d lay in Aunt Petunia’s garden and talk to whatever snakes happened by (he’d always thought he’d imagined them talking back before that day in the zoo). Aunt Petunia had him busy cleaning the entire house at least once a week, though he usually didn’t enjoy it.

And now he’d been locked in his room for days because of some bloody house-elf, taking meals through the cat-flap on his door that usually left him hungrier than he’d been to start with especially since he tried to share with Hedwig. This was a new low, even for him. He couldn’t even sneak to the kitchen at night to steal food.

Hedwig hooted from her cage, picking at the lock with her beak.

“I know, girl,” Harry said and she squawked louder, flapping her wings as much as she could in the confined space, “I’m sorry, I’d let you out if I could.”

“THAT BLOODY BIRD,” Uncle Vernon roared from downstairs.

Harry dove for the bag of treats on the floor under his bed and poked one through the bars. Hedwig regarded it disdainfully.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Harry whispered, smoothing the feathers on her wing with his finger, “It would only get worse, you know.”

She hooted lowly and Harry thought if it were possible for a bird to look reluctant, she did.

“Anyway, I think if I told him I had homework due, he’d at least let me have my books. I mean, Dudley has summer work. Aunt Petunia usually does it for him but still…” Hedwig didn’t have to make any noise this time for Harry to know it was a dumb idea. The Dursleys had never been reasonable.

Maybe his friends were busy or on holiday or something. Maybe Ron’s family owl died, and Hermione didn’t have an owl at all as far as Harry knew.

He laid down on his bed. He’d already sipped his soup broth for the night and the room was already getting dark. Hedwig hooted softly again, low enough to be for his sake only.

He ran through his checklist for Diagon Alley again.

He needed a broom, for sure. Professor McGonagall had said he’d be a great Quidditch player and he felt most at home on a broom. This year, he’d get to try out for the team as a “seeker” which was the player that zipped around chasing a ball even smaller than Neville’s remembrall. Ron had said that brooms were expensive, but he had plenty of money and he’d just ask the attendant which brand was the best model.

He hadn’t got his course list in the mail yet. Now that he thought about it, he might should worry exactly how the owl from Hogwarts would reach him with bars on his window. He’d need to get whatever new books for his classes and maybe it was just Hermione rubbing off on him, but he was thinking he might should buy a few books that he could read when he was locked in his room next summer.

He was starting to doze off. He hadn’t been sleeping all that well lately. He’d been having this weird recurring dream about a zoo…

He jerked awake suddenly to Hedwig flapping her wings frantically in her cage.

“Stop it,” Harry said blearily, throwing back his covers and scrambling for his glasses, “You’re going to mess up your wings.”

He caught something in the corner of his eye and when he pushed on his glasses, he peered out of his window.

A blue Ford Anglia was hovering several feet above Aunt Petunia’s flower bushes. One of Harry’s best friends was leaning out the window with two of his brothers in the front seat. Fred and George grinned at him. Ron was frowning.

Harry, gaping slightly, hurried to push up the window.

“Ron,” He said, trying to keep quiet, “Ron, what-“

“Are you alright?” Ron asked, “Why do you have bars on your window? And why haven’t you been answering my letters?”

“It’s a long story, but I don’t understand. What are you lot doing here?” Harry asked.

“Dad said you’d gotten a warning from the ministry about underage magic,” Fred said, letting out a low whistle, “Harry, I didn’t take you for a criminal. Didn’t you get one of those fancy slips of paper last term?”

“No, no, it wasn’t me-“ Harry started, but Ron waved at him to shut up.

“We’re taking you back home with us. Have you got all your stuff packed?” He asked.

“No, the Dursley’s have all of it locked up downstairs. My trunk, wand, everything.”

“We’ll take care of it,” George said, throwing Harry a thick piece of chain.

Harry quickly tied the chain through several of the bars. George pulled the car back around to accelerate. Harry backed up to be near Hedwig who hooted doubtfully. There was a big snapping noise and then the bars popped out of the windows. The Weasley’s pulled it into the ford Anglia.

George pulled the car back around and the twins climbed through the window.

“They’ve got you locked in your room, too?” George asked in surprise, when he’d tried the door. Harry mumbled something in acknowledgement. George brought out a bobby pin from his pocket and in a flash, he had the door open and they’d disappeared down the stairs.

Harry gathered a few things he’d want to take from his room: Hedwig’s leftover treats, his calendar, a couple pairs of socks. He passed them to Ron. On the stairs, Fred and George were lugging his trunk to his room. Harry heard a noise from his aunt and uncle’s room.

Together with the Weasley’s, they managed to get the trunk through the window and into the car., though they were all heaving by the time they were done.

Hedwig let out a screech.

“THAT RUDDY OWL!”

Harry darted to grab Hedwig’s cage as George scrambled back through the window. He all but tossed her to Ron before climbing back onto the windowsill.

At that point, Uncle Vernon had burst through Harry’s open bedroom door. His face was reddening rapidly, and he made a choking noise at the sight of the car outside Harry’s window. Petunia was on his heels, gasping sharply and making to cover herself up from the boys. From down the hall, Harry heard Dudley call out something. The Weasley’s were all gaping back at them.

Harry turned to go and Vernon grabbed his ankle, but Ron and George both seized him by the arms. Fred slammed on the gas and then they were speeding away, Ron yanking him into the seat and slamming the door after him. Harry looked through the back glass. Uncle Vernon was hanging out, gesticulating wildly, but Aunt Petunia was trying to reel him in. She was probably worrying about what the neighbors would think.

Hedwig hooted from Ron’s lap and Harry grinned at her as he turned back in his seat. His heart was suddenly soaring, and he knew it wasn’t just because they were in the air.

“Pass her up,” George said, “We’ll let her out and she can follow us home.”

Ron passed Hedwig up to the front seat and a moment later, she was out of sight. Harry figured she was probably on her way to hunt. George pushed the bars from Harry’s window out of the window before rolling it up.

On the way to Ron’s house, Harry had plenty of time to tell the others about Dobby and his letters, and subsequently being locked in his room.

“You’ve been locked in there for days?” Ron asked, uncertainly.

“Yeah, for a bit. It’s alright, though. If I was still in the cupboard, you wouldn’t have been able to bust me out,” Harry grinned.

“Cupboard?” Fred asked, glancing at the rearview mirror. He pressed a button on the dash and swooped lower. George made a vague gesture to the right.

“It’s um…the bedroom’s better.” Harry said.

“And you said the house-elf punished itself?” George asked, “So it must have been rebelling against its family. You’ve got any enemies?”

“Or a trick, to keep you from going back.” Fred countered, “Someone at school could have sent him.”

“Snape hates me, and most of Slytherin would probably like it if I never came back.” Harry said.

“Draco Malfoy,” Ron said darkly.

“The Malfoy’s were involved with you-know-who. Though I guess the same could be said for most of Slytherin. No offense, mate.” George said.

“Dad has to deal with Draco’s dad at work. They can’t stand each other.”

As the Weasleys talked more about the Malfoys, most of which Harry hadn’t heard about, he frowned out the window. He knew Malfoy and a few of the others had their reasons to be suspicious of him, for the same reason it had been such a shock to everyone when he’d been sorted into Slytherin. But he’d survived Voldemort eleven years ago and Malfoy had tried to befriend him before the sorting. Harry hadn’t thought they’d parted as enemies, either, though they certainly weren’t best friends.

Ron didn’t know that they’d talked much beyond arguing. Malfoy had said he’d be nicer when Harry had last had a private conversation with him, but between exams and them going after the stone, there hadn’t been much of a chance to see if he’d keep his word.

Outside, dawn was rising. Nothing had much of a chance of dampening Harry’s spirits now, regardless of weird house-elves, but Fred and George exchanged a nervous look.

“Nearly there, now. Listen, Harry, mum doesn’t know we took the car, so you’ll go to Ron’s room. He’ll come down and say, “look who turned up,” George said.

Harry pressed his face against the window to get a glimpse of the Weasley’s house. They lived a bit away from the village. Their house was a rickety tower of mismatched rooms, surrounded by a tiny yard and a shed. There were chickens and pigs, and a familiar plump woman standing by the door.

They landed. Harry didn’t have much time to be nervous. He’d seen Mrs. Weasley briefly on the platform both before and after his first year, but they hadn’t had much time to talk. All the Weasley’s had been Gryffindors. Ron, Fred, and George had all come around, but would the rest of the family feel the same?

“Oh, no,” Fred said, spotting his mum at last.

There was nothing left to do but get out of the car. Ron helped Harry get his trunk out, but even he had gone green.

“So?” Mrs. Weasley said, fury lining her voice.

“Morning,” George said, in an impressively cheerful voice. It didn’t stop Mrs. Weasley’s outburst.

Once she’d finished, and her sons looked appropriately shamed, she turned to Harry who flinched.

“Oh, dear, of course I’m glad to see you, Harry,” She said in a much softer tone, “I’ve got your breakfast on, now. You look famished. Not to worry, we’ll sort you out.”

They followed her inside, and Harry was struck immediately with how different the Burrow was to Privet Drive. The inside was tiny and a little cluttered. It looked like it was very much lived in, unlike Aunt Petunia’s spotless floors and shining countertops. There were several pairs of shoes piled on top of each other by the door, cloaks hanging by hooks next to a clock with each of the Weasley’s names on a hand, several schoolbooks were piled on top of a table with half-finished papers on top.

“It’s not much,” Ron muttered next to Harry, rubbing his nose anxiously.

“It’s brilliant,” Harry said honestly.

Ron smiled at him, and then led Harry to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was finishing up breakfast.

“I don’t want you to think we blame you, Harry,” She said once he’d taken a seat at a long table and she was loading his plate with delicious-smelling food, “Arthur and I were just talking last night that we’d come get you ourselves if Ron didn’t receive a letter soon. But taking the _car._ Anyone could have seen!”

Harry gaped at her. Mrs. Weasley had planned to come get him, even if Ron hadn’t mentioned it. Even though he’d hardly talked to her. Even though he’d been sorted a Slytherin.

“It was cloudy, mum, and we used the booster,” Fred said.

“Shut it, and eat your breakfast,” Mrs. Weasley said, though she was a bit distracted with giving Harry more sausages.

Draco knew his father was anxious. Malfoys were great at keeping themselves contained in public, but Draco had watched his father enough to know it for himself.

Lucius spent a great deal of time in the library, which was usually suited more to his mother. Draco wasn’t sure what he was up to in there but judging by the look on Narcissa’s face every time he disappeared, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

They’d interrogated him about Harry his first night. Draco had expected them to be angry about the stone, but his father seemed most interested in what had happened that night. He pressed for every detail Draco knew, which was whatever Harry had deigned to tell him that day at the feast. His father seemed uninterested in any details about Harry himself, but his mother seemed more curious, like Draco had been growing up.

“What was he like?” She asked him one evening when they were having tea together. Lucius was in the library. “Was he as great as they say?”

The serving elf stepped forward to pour more tea into Draco’s cup, before stepping back out of the way. Draco took the opportunity to take a sip before he answered.

“Potter? He’s not what I had expected,” There was no questioning who she meant. There wasn’t anyone at Hogwarts interesting enough for his mother to ask about.

“Well, that’s to be expected. You can’t judge a character from books written by men who’d never met him,” She said, “I’m sure that no one expected him to be Slytherin either.”

“No, that’s true. Everyone at school was certainly surprised. He didn’t know anything about, well, anything.” Draco said.

“Well, we knew that. The ministry keeps tabs on him, of course. He was sent to live with that muggle family of his.” She answered.

“Yeah, but it was less than I thought. I don’t think they told him about magic, at all.”

“Yes, yes, Draco, I’m not interested in how uneducated he is,” She said, sounding amused, “What is he like? You say you aren’t friends.”

“We’ve clashed a bit,” Draco admitted, “He spends most of his time with a couple of Gryffindors. Like I said, he doesn’t care about tradition at _all.”_

“But is he ambitious? Cunning? What part of him belongs in Slytherin?” She pressed.

Draco stared at her. He’d done his best to be neutral. Being brave and reckless were not coveted traits in Slytherin or the Malfoy family. He had planned not to tell his parents that he’d wanted to befriend Potter, and he had certainly not planned to let them know that friendship was assumedly still on the table. His father had not asked about Harry himself and Draco hadn’t thought his mother would either. He’s wasn't certain what answer was the right one, and which would tell her what she wants to hear. He didn't know what she was looking for.

He didn’t know what he thought himself, really.

“He’s…” Draco said hesitantly, “He’s brave and he’s capable. He has to catch up to the rest of us, but he’s not doing as badly as I’d thought. He’s not like us, but I…” He trails off.

His mother just looked at him for a moment, Draco didn't know what she was thinking, then snapped her fingers. The elf stepped forward again.

“Dobby, clear this away. Draco, you’d better go, darling. I’ve got to check on your father.”

Draco didn’t wait to be told twice. He set his cup back on the tray and goes. His mother is a lot gentler than his father, but she’s also a lot better at hiding her feelings. Draco has rarely been able to read her, but it seems like she can see through him like glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! If you were waiting on this, sorry but online school required more of my attention than I thought it would. I've finished exams so I hope I can be a little more active for a while. Thanks for reading! Any comments/concerns/whatever are always welcome!


	2. From Across the Silence

Harry was surprised to learn that he fit in at the Burrow rather quickly. Sharing Ron’s room was fine, the two spent almost all of their time together anyway and anything was preferable to being back with the Dursleys.

Fred and George, who he’d gotten to know rather well through Ron at Hogwarts, treated him as they always had. They joked and poked fun, but Harry had already realized that this was their way of including him. They had come to get him, after all.

Ginny and Percy, however, were new to him. Ron, and thus Harry, avoided Percy at all costs while at school. He’d spent very little time around him but knew they didn’t have much in common. He would probably get along better with Hermione. Ginny spent the first few days shying away from Harry, but by the fourth breakfast, she’d taken the last empty seat across from him almost unconsciously and had only turned a little pink when he’d passed her the toast. It was progress.

Mrs. Weasley was as kind as ever, making a point to give him second, and even third, helpings at every meal. She’d done a bit of spellwork on his hand-me-down clothes so that they at least fit properly and were a different color than cement gray.

Mr. Weasley was just as kind. He engaged Harry in conversations about muggles whenever he was home from work. It felt nice to know something that the others didn’t, and Mr. Weasley drunk every word in as if Harry were telling him the secrets of the universe.

Everyone seemed to like him. It’s the first time he’d ever experienced that and he’s so worried he’ll do something stupid to muck it all up. It was almost like being part of a family, though he wasn’t stupid enough to forget that he didn’t actually belong here. That they only treated him kindly because they were exceptionally good people, not out of any excess fondness for him. It felt like he fit in, but he wasn’t part of this family. He would never be.

“Here’s Hermione’s latest letter,” Ron said, from where he was perched on his own bed, “She’s worried, but I already sent a reply telling her about our plan to rescue you.”

“Brilliant,” Harry said, shaking himself. He was supposed to be catching up on his summer work, not thinking about how good Ron had it. Ron was disadvantaged himself in many ways, and Harry had no reason to blame him for his own terrible family.

That night, Harry was halfway through his plate when Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat.

“So, Slytherin?” Mrs. Weasley asked, making an effort to look nonchalant.

“Mum!” Ron said loudly, sending Harry an apologetic look.

“I’m just asking, I don’t mean anything by it, of course. I was just a bit surprised is all.” She said, quickly forking another piece of chicken onto Harry’s plate as if to reassure him. Or distract him.

“Because of Voldemort?” Harry asked.

It was like saying “magic” back at the Dursley’s. Ginny jumped so hard that her elbow collided with Percy’s book which flipped and landed with a hard thud on the floor. Ron winced. Fred let out a low whistle and Mrs. Weasley set the plate down harder than necessary.

“Well, yes,” She said after a moment of shocked silence, “But I also knew your parents and you seemed so much like Lily, dear, when I met you on the platform.”

It was Harry’s turn to be stunned. He hadn’t known Mrs. Weasley had known his parents at all. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It’s not like he knew anything about his parent’s life.

“You knew my parents?” Harry asked.

“Not too well, mind. I’d already left Hogwarts by their time but we were…well, Arthur was sort of in a club. I’d already had all the boys so I wasn’t involved much. I’d just cook for everyone a bit. I didn’t spend much time with James, you know, he was always with his friends, but Lily would help me with meals sometimes. I remember when she was pregnant with you, Harry. I was about to have Ron then, of course. She was so excited…” Mrs. Weasley looked suddenly as if she were about to cry. The others were looking vaguely uncomfortably between her and Harry.

“Mum, you never said you knew Harry as a baby!” Fred said, sounding accusatory.

“Well, I didn’t, did I? I had Ron earlier in March and then Ginny after that, so I never got back with the order. She did send me a picture though, hold on a moment…” She pushed back from the table and disappeared from the kitchen.

Ron glanced at Harry with concern, but the others looked intrigued. Mrs. Weasley was gone only a moment before she was back. She passed the photograph to Harry.

It was one he recognized, from the album Hagrid had given him at the end of term. It was a picture of James, hair as messy as Harry’s on any given day, holding a bundle of blankets that was Harry. Baby Harry waved his tiny fists, while James grinned and looked above the camera, presumably at Lily. Ron was peering over his shoulder, so Harry passed it to him.

“You can have it, if you like.” Mrs. Weasley sniffed, patting her eyes with her napkin.

“That’s alright, you keep it,” Harry said, “I’ve got one like it.”

“Oh, did your aunt and uncle…?” She said uncertainly

“No,” Harry said quickly, “No, Hagrid asked around and made an album for me. Most are from their wedding but there’s a few of me when I was just born. Thank you. For that and for letting me stay.”

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Weasley reached across the table and patted his hand softly before taking the photo back from George next to her and tucking it in her apron.

“Is anyone up for dessert?” Mr. Weasley suggested, looking far too out of his comfort zone, “I’d really like to try out that ice cream maker that I got from Perkins…”

A few days later, they received their letters from Hogwarts. Harry’s was among them. With the post, Ron received Hermione’s reply, inviting them to meet her in Diagon Alley to shop for supplies.

Harry did not realize what meeting in Diagon Alley would entail.

After his wrong turn down Knockturn Alley, and he’d reconnected with the Weasleys, they made a quick stop at Gringotts. Then he, Ron, and Hermione had an hour to themselves before they were to meet the others at Flourish and Blott’s.

“You’ll let me ride your new broom, won’t you?” Ron asked as they pushed their way through the crowds to get to Quality Quidditch Supplies.

“Yeah, course. We’ll show Fred and George when we get back,” Harry said.

“You mean you’ll show them when you make the Quidditch team this year.” Ron said gleefully.

“Yes, yes, but I’ll need to buy a few things so try not to take too long in here,” Hermione said, following them into the shop.

Harry didn’t know much about brooms and there seemed to be dozens of types in the store. It was packed full with students so Ron had to shout in Harry’s ear to tell him about each broom. Hermione lingered behind them as Harry and Ron talked animatedly.

“Look, the new Nimbus 2001!” Ron grabbed Harry’s arm.

The broom was sleek and smooth, with perfectly polished wood and straightened bristles. He and Ron weren’t the only ones gawking at it.

‘’It’s so expensive,” Harry said once they’d looked it over. Hagrid wasn’t here to keep his spending in check this time, and Ron certainly didn’t look as if he were going to tell Harry to be more frugal with his money. 

The attendant stepped over, “Interested?”

She looked between them. Her eyes landed on Harry’s head.

“Er, yeah. Can you tell me the difference between the 2000 and the 2001?” Harry asked.

“It’s faster, more streamlined. I think it’s supposed to react to your movements better, too.” Her eyes were still on Harry’s fringe. 

“I’ll get it,” Harry said quickly, patting his hair flat.

“Yes! Oh man, imagine the look on Malfoy’s face when you show up with a Nimbus 2001!” Ron whooped.

“You really think he won’t have the newest model as well?” Hermione asked critically.

“Well, yes, but we already know Harry’s the better flyer,” Ron said, “I bet he’ll expect Harry to show up with a comet or a _moontrimmer._ Could you imagine?” He scoffed.

Harry and Hermione exchanged looks. Hermione rolled her eyes, Harry fished out his galleons.

After paying (Harry’s pockets were considerably lighter), the trio headed to one of the stationary stores to restock on parchment and quills. They explored a few of the other quainter shops that Harry hadn’t been to when he came here with Hagrid last year.

They met Seamus Finnigan in front of Madam Malkins and he dragged them excitedly down an alleyway to make Harry show him his broom. Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan were also anxious to look at it when they found them in the joke shop.

“I’m sure all of Slytherin will have one like it,” Fred said, mournfully tracing the bristles.

“They always have the new models, and you’ve beaten them before,” Lee Jordan said bracingly.

“Not since Charlie,” George shook his head, “Put it away, Harry. My heart can’t take looking at it much longer.”

Finally, it was time to head back to Flourish and Blotts to meet the Weasley’s and pick up their new books. Hermione squealed in delight when they drew close enough in the crowded street to look at the banner.

“No wonder it’s so crowded,” Ron said in disgust, “And no wonder Mum chose today to come.”

“Lockhart wrote all of those books on our list, didn’t he?” Harry said, having read the name on the banner. Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing books at Flourish and Blotts that afternoon.

Mrs. Weasley was already in line, standing with Ginny, Percy, and Mr. Weasley. She ushered the others closer. Fred and George appeared a minute later, looking as disgruntled as Ron.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Fred said.

It took around ten more minutes of being jostled in line before Harry could even catch a glimpse of Lockhart. He was seated at a long table, covered in stacks of his books and picture of his own smiling face. His robes matched his eyes perfectly, and his teeth gleamed almost unnaturally.

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. Hermione looked smitten.

“It’s embarrassing,” Ron said lowly. Ginny snorted, looking for once like she might talk to them normally, but she turned pink again when she caught Harry looking.

“Don’t tell me you like that git too,” Ron said.

“I don’t!” Ginny said quickly, “Of course I-“

“ _Harry Potter!”_ Harry flinched at the sound of his own name. Ron and Ginny fell silent, as did the line around them. Their bickering must have reached Lockhart, who had stood and had turned his sparkling smile their way. The poor boy waiting at the table for his autograph was shooed on by Lockhart’s photographer who waved Harry forward.

A man, probably Lockhart’s agent if the wizarding world had those, grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him from the crowd. Ron grabbed the broomstick from him as he went, holding it protectively against his chest as if guarding a treasure. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were both beaming at Harry.

“A nice big smile, Harry. Together, you and I are worth the front page,” Lockhart said, shaking Harry’s hand for the camera. The rest of the crowd started clapping heartily.

Harry tried to wiggle away but Lockhart hauled him back, his grin never wavering and his grip surprisingly tight on his shoulder. Fred and George were snickering at him.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. ‘What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography. He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The crowd cheered louder. Harry suddenly found his arms filled with an autographed collection of Lockhart’s works. Suddenly free, he stumbled over to the Weasleys.

“You head over there, now, and I’ll get the rest of everyone’s books,” Mrs. Weasley said, still beaming at Harry, “That was so noble of him, wasn’t it? And to think he’ll be teaching all of you…”

Harry and Ginny headed over to an abandoned corner full of muggle poetry. He dumped the entire collection into Ginny’s cauldron. She frowned at it.

“You have those, I’ll get my own,” He said, flexing his fingers. Lockhart had a surprisingly strong grip.

Ginny looked as though she might argue, but she didn’t have the chance. They were interrupted by a familiar voice. Harry turned to look.

Draco had recently become acquainted with embarrassment. It hadn’t taken him long to know that he loathed the feeling. It also didn’t take him long to notice that it seemed to occur almost exclusively around Harry Potter.

He was almost surprised that Harry didn’t look much different since he’d seen him at school. His hair was just as messy, he still looked defensive. He hadn’t even gotten that much taller, though Draco and even Weasley seemed to both have grown at least an inch.

Harry looked the same. Draco did not feel the same.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Draco said, because what else could he say.

“About as much as I loved facing that troll,” Harry said and Draco’s mouth twitched.

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” said the girl standing next to Harry. It could only be the youngest Weasley. She glared at him. 

“It’s okay. He’s just teasing.” Harry told her before Draco could decide how to respond.

Weasley and Granger fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart’s books.

“Oh, it’s you,” said Weasley, looking at Draco as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. Draco wasn’t overly familiar with receiving the expression.

Draco glanced at him but looked back at Harry. He remembered their discussion that night, _Looks like you have a choice to make._ He’d practically been going over the conversation all summer.

“Is that a new broomstick?” He asked calmly, “I’m trying out for the team too. You needn’t have bothered. My father is buying-“ He was interrupted.

“Ron!” said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with the twins. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

Draco felt his father’s hand on his shoulder before he heard him. He swallowed, then stepped back to let his father forward. He was small again, the way he could only be around him.

“Harry Potter,” Lucius said softly, “At last we meet. Draco’s told me all about your _adventures_ last year. I’m sure you strive to be a credit to your house…”

Harry didn’t look phased. He glanced at Draco but set his shoulders slightly.

“Sure,” He shrugged, “But Slytherin doesn’t need me to set a reputation, now does it? It seems like you lot have that down all on your own.”

Lucius sneered at him, and turned to Arthur who was glaring at him, one hand on Ginny’s shoulder protectively.

“Buying books, Arthur? My, this set must cost you. Lockhart’s books do cost a shiny sickle,”

Draco’s felt embarrassed again. He eyed one of the books to the side. It wass a muggle poetry book. He pretended to be very interested in its title.

There was a thunk and Draco dropped his eyes to Ginny Weasleys cauldron. There was a slim dark book there that stood out from the rest of her books. Draco glanced at his father in surprise. He didn’t recognize it, though their library was far too big for him to have memorized every title. Still, he couldn’t think of a reason why his father would sneak the Weasley girl any book at all.

His father’s eyes were glinting dangerously, something like relief when Arthur Weasley finally got fed up with his needling and their fight distracted everyone.

Later, when Lucius steered him out of Diagon Alley with an iron grasp on his shoulder, Draco thought about asking him. He doesn’t in the end, but he remembers it when he goes to bed, and again when he boards the train on Platform 9 ¾.


End file.
